I’ve been mostly writing new material, working on a novel, doing my MA, teaching workshops and also being a Dad so I’ve not been giving much love to the live circuit. However we had our first Word Wise of the year last Friday which was ace. It was a pleasure to bring JB Barrington and Jim Higo to the city to perform for the first time; big thanks to all of you who attended! February’s Word Wise will see Mark ‘Mace’ Smith and Alice Short. It will take place on the last Saturday (24th February) instead of the last Friday!

In terms of my own live shows; I’m very happy to be appearing at the amazing Verve Poetry Festival at Waterstones in Birmingham on the 18th February alongside my poetry fam-a-lam Salena Godden, Matt Abbott and Maria Ferguson. I’ll also have some bits coming up towards the summer that I’ll announce in due course.

The first print-run of my collection The Best Of A Bad Situation SOLD OUT!!! So Silhouette Press have sent off for the second edition. You can buy it here:

For me 2018 is all about pushing myself as a writer and working on as many projects as possible.

I’m really excited to be a part of Bloque Capitals and we’ll be dropping a new tune very soon with a video etc. I’m working on 3 separate poetry collections, as well as the novel, and also a collaborative piece with the excellent Matthew Clegg. I’ve been made an ambassador of the charity POETS IN who work to deliver Creative Writing Workshops in Prisons and rehabilitation centres. I’m also the lead writer and Spoken Word artist on the Man-Up project working for the excellent RESTOKE. I’m also getting more and more work in terms of the education stuff so as you can see I’ve got my hands full.

I’m gonna make a concerted effort to blog a little bit more but don’t hold it against me if I don’t achieve this!

My debut collection “The Best of A Bad Situation” will be released in May 2017 through the magnificent “Silhouette Press” who have been a joy to work with. This is an exciting moment for me and the result of a lot of hard graft. My book launch at Fire & Dust, Coventry will take place on this date alongside the awesome Steve Pottinger The Facebook event for this gig is here: https://www.facebook.com/events/1573038666070312/

I’m also rather proud to announce that I got commissioned to write a piece for the award winning social photographer Jim Mortram’s rather amazing “Small Town Inertia” project through the excellent”bluecoat Press” so march really was some month for me! If you want to know more about this project hit the link below, Until next time folks take it easy and all that jazz…I’ll update with links to buy my collection when details are ready…All the best. J

It’s been a very busy time: I’ve countless readings/performances coming up so head over to the live/readings page to find out when and where!

I’ve also secured a position as the shadow-writer-in-residence for the Writing East Midlands:Write here-Sanctuary Project. This is a project aiming to support refugees and Asylum seekers in the facilitation of their own stories written in English. I’m ultra-mega-proper happy to be involved in such a wonderful venture and I’m looking forward to doing my bit to make refugees welcome here in Derby!

I also have some other amazing news but I’m not allowed to tell you that yet….

The F.B.I decides to take a grassroots approach in a bid to locate and capture an 81-year-old Mafioso member…he’s evaded you long enough let him die running…milk carton advertisements are so last decade.

Will Cheryl and Ashley’s marriage work itself out? Who gives a shit?

There’s loadsa bee’s swarming down Regent Street; a real dilemma for the rich businessmen and their suit-tailoring monopolies; nature has them down on all fours licking the pavement for remnants of honey to soothe them for their loss of money.

Reasonable force can now be used to protect your own property! About time you daft twats- Not that I’d need permission to batter a thief for breaking into my yard; I always use the powers of the force in a reasonable manner… Like Yoda on steroids recovering from extreme- post-gangrene-treatment…you’d have thought Lucas would have sorted it out for him- but no poor old master had to wait for Obama’s health-bill to go through; it looks like he’s gonna be waiting a while for that last medical appointment and that prescription of skin-ointment; Oh to be a pretty boy like Beckham or Depp; unfortunately I left my skin products in safeway on the counter, when I suddenly came to my senses and realized I was a bloke.

Dictate not truths and burn the Thesaurus; one word is enough for any; simplify the linguistic code and replicate our tabloids; simple, short, concise words like; sun, star, and mail…not to mention pretty visions like the times and mirror, mirror on the floor smashed into a thousand pieces.

The shards of a nation fighting not to be Britain…At least we might do well at the footy in the Olympics if Gareth Bale’s on our side….but oh no, what’s this more deceit and lies- The egg firmly on Derby’s face…just what we needed! More bastard redundancies- the perfect accompaniment for a city on its death bed…A city that could be anywhere in the U.K….It’s all just as grim North of London!

Make squatting illegal and carrying a knife ok…as long as you don’t threaten anyone with it.

Review the culling of badgers…rate it on a scale of one to five….Stars; just like our government celebrities from the commons, live, on BBC parliament- Big Brother house to the politicians…Oh how they wish they were Lords…all in good time…failing to heed to warnings from unions….everyone will strike unprecedentedly for their pensions…you aint seen nothing yet Cameron…you and your mate Kenneth are gonna tackle drug addiction in prisons…but we have to ask ourselves a serious question in relation to this grotesque task- is there any gold at the end of the rainbow or is that just a fantasy…hmm the similarities are uncanny…never mind prison what about our other institutions…namely our places of education…nine mistakes on GCSE and A-level papers! Who the fuck is setting the questions? Educational ministerial monkeys…more vigilance required…stop this lingual halitosis and hire someone else to do the job properly…Life in Syria lived in weekly protest; men women and children shot dead in the name of democracy by the orders of hypocrisy…

Greeks contest in Athens-Austerity measures needed; everything is needed…we need to follow America -we can do it best through media; with televised party-debates to fool the nation Clegg’s great. But now we see the true picture and it’s bleak…black and white fuzzy dots just like when the signals lost. Hopeless but not defeated; in dire need of fine-tuning;

And so I wait for the day, when the cats at the top are in tune with us rats at the bottom…but we all know that aint never gonna happen.

I started work for an agency; I’d been there six-months (on ‘n off). One Monday I goes in ‘n they ‘ad a position on the bins. I took it; piece of cake, I was thinking.

Half an hour later the Bin-Lorry came round the corner and picked us up; I couldn’t believe me eyes; I knew one of the lads in the front; Smudge, a geezer I used to knock about with back in the day.

Him and the geezer driving (Kenny) made us feel welcome; showed us the ropes ‘n that.

That first day they stopped at the chippy for dinner; cuz I’d not brung any with me. The weather was pretty nice that day; I remember getting a right sweat on sat in the front of the lorry and yammin’ all that hot food down me gob.

We knocked off about three-o-clock that day; finished the round a little bit later than usual, Smudge ‘n Kenny said. Fuck-it though, I don’t think they was being funny about it; don’t think they were trying to hint at oat. They knew it was me first day so I think they were all good with it.

From the Tuesday onwards I got me Mrs to make us a pack-up; nice sandwiches, loadsa crisps ‘n chocolate ‘n all that.

The first week flew by, the weather was proper sound. I was buzzin’ with me pay-packet the following Monday; I’d earnt more than I’d ever earnt in me life. That night I went out on the piss proper style, me n Smudge was on-it-like-a-car-bonnet!! Avvin it proper.

The next morning me enthusiasm for the job was beginning to wear-off. At first I’d enjoyed the running about ‘n that; felt like it was doing me good ‘n keeping me fit. That morning it was different though; it just wasn’t the same. The kebab I couldn’t even remember eating started to repeat on us, I ended up pukin me guts-up on only the fourth street. Smudge ‘n Ken were laughing at us like fuck; the bastards, bet I looked a right-sight though. I vowed to quit drinking after that day, at least on school-nights.

I kept up me vows for the remainder of the week ‘n got smashed at the weekend. This became a routine for the next month or so; a true WEEKEND OFFENDER, but I was beginning to dread the Monday morning.

But despite the dread Monday morning rolled on next week ‘n I went to work. I was beginning to get really pissed-off with the way people leave their bins, always wonky ‘n full to the brim, heavy as fuck to push along when you have to do pissin’ eighty to a hundred on every bastard street. I was happy when lunch-hour came, I scoffed me food down like a savage.

A couple more days went past ‘n then it was the Thursday, it looked like it was gonna piss it down. I walked to the depot anyway. That Kenny was beginning to piss us off, he kept going on about their old-partner Dezzy; a legend him ‘n Smudge had said. ‘N that was fine; it was fine to think of an old-colleague to be of legendary status, that was not the problem. The problem was that Kenny kept dropping fucking remarks like;

Not as fast as our old ledgy-Dezzy is he Smudge? ‘n stuff like that. It was funny the first few times but I was beginning to take it personally.

By the time Kenny ‘n Smudge pulled out the lock-up and picked us up it was proper tearing-it-down, I couldn’t fucking believe it. I got in the front ‘n Kenny was grinning, the smarmy bastard, I was feeling fucked-off with it all.

We started the rounds ‘n I finished off the first couple of streets; I was soaking wet-through, I’d never been so bloody wet.

By the time I got back in the front and we were approaching the third street I’d already decided what I was gonna do. We pulled up at the top of the street; Renfew Street. ‘N then I did what I knew I was gonna do;

I ran, I ran like fuck!

Luckily me mate lived round the corner so I knew where I was running to, so I jogged on and never looked back and never set foot in the depot again. I could here Smudge shouting as I was leggin’ it-

-METZ, METZ! WHAT THA FUCKER YA DOING? DON’T LEAVE US IN THA SHIT!

I felt bad for Smudge cuz he was a good lad but me days of carting people’s shit around were well and truly over. The twats at the agency even gave me a full day’s pay for me marathon!

A couple of weeks later I got on at a factory round the corner from where I live. I’ve worked there ever since I ran away from the bins.

This job felt pretty steady until recently; all the government cut-backs ‘n that; they’ve been laying-off left, right ‘n centre. They say on the news that things will improve in the next couple of years. Apparently them Conservatives ‘n Liberal Democrats know what’s going on ‘n they’re gonna sort it out. It’s that kinder stuff that makes me not want to watch the news, sometimes I’m just not convinced they’re telling the truth; I think they might just be- all out for themselves; without a thought for you or me.

-A REAL QUANDARY, Shouts the captain in perpendicular motion, fingers raised toward the setting sun- if it were fully dark we’d see the Milky-Way!

-Ahoy, agreed, hurrah! Exhaled the troops in unison. The battered fiesta was working out fantastically. They were driving down a tight country-lane approaching a small Cornish village.

-TEAR THE FUCKER UP CAPTAIN! Roared an excitedly ‘tripping-off-his-tits’ Private Howard Jetson from the passenger seat next to him –FUCK THE CORNISH BOYZ- WE RULE!! -WOO-HOO!!

Mushrooms had been a major part of the agenda, it had been a perfect clear summer’s day; the evening sky was now red- a real mystified Sheppard’s delight. There was a tension in the air, an ambiguous feeling of omnipotence and adversity concerning the next twenty-four hours. Worse still- that old foe panic was on the horizon, the captain could sense him; he knew this predator well. He listened out for sounds of serpent’s hissing- forgetting the road and nearly smashing straight into a fence. His vision was impairing itself rapidly. The troops giggled girlishly as he sailed forth- his engine wailing disharmoniously in over-revved agony. The Captain could see sharks swimming in the next field; he skidded around the corner; dry dust penetrated the gaps in the electric windows. Private Howard Jetson pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes; now seemed like the perfect time to use them. This issue with the Jaws impersonators in the next field perplexed the Captain greatly- why would they do that?

-This is the first time I’ve driven this ship and I’ll be damned If I’m going down without a fight!

The Captain had turned red as sweat saturated his brow; he screamed in a manner that made him almost wretch with sheer unadulterated aggression, his eyes were monstrous forming a blank glaze:

-NO DAMNED LAND SHARK WILL GET THE BETTER OF ME- WHO DO THESE JAWS IMPERSONATORS THINK THEY ARE?

The troops exchanged bemused looks, but looks would achieve nothing. The Captain was now ferocious and full of rapture as he slipped from second straight into forth and burst through the oncoming fence and into the field. He wretched further into rage:

-FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU’RE NOT TAKING ME!!! NEVER!!! THIS IS OUR LAND ALSO!!

The captain suddenly ground the car to a halt, turning off the engine but leaving the ignition on, the radio blastingTell Me Lies by Fleetwood Mac, this seemed to annoy the captain as he violently reached for the power button. Off.Silence.

The lieutenant was seated in the back alongside Tea-boy Stackson- they’d been relaxing, seemingly inattentive, taking in the drama, attempting to comprehend the complexity of the situation that was fast approaching the mind of their Captain. They could sense the cogs of insanity churning away- They’d been here before, the Captain’soccasionallapses of drug psychosis from years of speed and smack abuse-Bla-bla-bla…

This would form the basis of his excuse in the morning. Nonetheless, his bad trips were a joyful prospect of entertainment for their observerous eyes.

The Captain placed the nub of a roll up to his mouth. He sparked-up and exhaled the smoke, as if forgetting that he hadn’t inhaled it. His blue eyes rolled deep into the back of his head, although he was turned toward Jetson as though making eye contact, but the Captain seemed incapable of achieving such a task. He spoke but this time surprisingly more calm and dignified:

-Listen platoon, I’ve been thinking and it’s sure as hell a lot more likely that those land-sharks are rhinoceros’ rather than Jaws replica’s, but still, we must be careful.

The lieutenant rolled his eyes and head-butted his palm- he knew not whether to laugh or cry, so instead he spoke up from behind:

-For fuck sake captain we aren’t in Hollywood that shit would cost thousands to replicate, and there’s no water man, -You’re handling this all wrong-I demand you- to let me take the wheel sir, you are currently not of sound mind -I know just how to handle these rhinos -I saw it once on Stevie Irwin.

He winked at Stackson hopeful that these words would enable his movement into the front of the Fiesta.

The captain instantly appeared agitated, shaking his head in disbelief. The roll-up in the corner of his mouth now soaked with dry, spent saliva- sticking to his bottom lip. As he spoke, his face quivered in a bitter chemical contortion: -Not on water? haa-haa, that the best you got? Not on water? His eyes rolled back further and then darted forwards and peered into the rear-view- mirror addressing the Lieutenant’s squinty brown pupils. His voice then rose in shroomed-up anguish:

-YOU, LIUTENENT!

-Yes, sir, yes su—

-NEVER FUCKING MIND SIR YES SIR- YOU FUCKING HEATHEN- I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS VESSEL AND I SHALL NEVER PASS THE WHEEL OVER TO A NOMAD SUCH AS YOUR BAD SELF, YOU FIENDISH FUCK! WE AGREED I AM THE CAPTAIN- I DREW THE LONGEST STRAW AND PISS FROM THE LONGEST COCK! AND YOU- HE WHO SITS DEFEATED; NOT EVEN RIDING SHOTGUN- HAS THE AUDACITY TO DEMAND MY POSITION?

-I HAVE A GOOD MIND TO JUMP FROM THIS SHIP AND HANDLE THESE SHARKS WITH MY BARE HANDS AND POSSIBLY LEGS; I KNOW HOW TO WRESTLE AND HAVE ALSO WATCHED STEVIE IRWIN; I CALL HIM STEVIE BECAUSE I FEEL AS THOUGH I KNEW HIM BETTER THAN YOU DID, HAVING CLEARLY WATCHED HIS SHOW MORE- IT WAS ME WHO GOT YOU INTO HIM YOU BASTARD AND IT’S ME WHO KNOWS HOW TO CAPTURE AN ALIGATOR WITHOUT GETTING BITTEN, ALTHOUGH I AM YET TO TEST THIS- I AM AT ONE WITH NATURE AND I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP AND I DECIDE IF WE ARE SWIMMING OR SINKING! -IF THIS SHIP GOES DOWN; I AM GOING DOWN WITH IT; AS DRIVER, AS LEADER OF MEN AND FIGHTER OF SHARKS DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU UNDERSTAND LIEUTENANT? AM I MAKING MYSELF PERFECTLY CLEAR?

The atmosphere of the car was breathless and the Captain’s question rhetorical. The silence of the endless, surrounding fields seemed deafening in comparison to that of the vessel.

But this was to be understood; After all, there were land sharks lurking. The captain had turned the ignition to start the engine; he was playing with the window wipers and lights, flicking them off and on, the wipers squeaking slightly whilst the headlights illuminated the grass ahead of them. Dusk began to set further. The captain could feel the ground beneath him rumbling, turbulent tremors from below.

-THESE FUCKING TYRRANTS- THEY ROCK MY BOAT-WHO ARE THESE BEASTS?

The captain ground his teeth together and was now brown-lipped from the tar of his dissolved roll-up. He looked out of the windows, rubbing his hands in anticipation. The lieutenant had his face buried in his knees; he knew the captain was gone, suffering- extremely deluded. Would he return? Only time would tell.

-WHO DO THEY THINK WE FEAR? WE HAVE PROVISIONS- PLENTY OF JUICE IN THE ENGINE! I CAN FUCKING SAIL ALL DAY; RIVERS-ESTUARIES -SEAS- YOU NAME IT!

Private Howard Jetson was finishing skinning up a joint on a CD case in the passenger seat; he noticed the Captain reaching into his combat trousers and producing a knife which he flicked open instantaneously:

The captain now spoke in an attempted American tongue; what state he was from, only he knew, it was certainly undecipherable to the insane ear. All of a sudden he ragged the car towards the sharks/rhinos driving directly over one and grinding to a halt; He jumped from the vehicle and ran towards the sharks/rhinos. Private Howard Jetson began to laugh uncontrollably shaking the body of the car whilst coughing on the thick smoke produced by the joint. The lieutenant raised his head from the back to view a sight simply unimaginable- He watched completely miffed, as the Captain repeatedly stabbed and kicked at a bail of hay:

-So they weren’t even rhinos then? Inquired a miffed Lieutenant.

-It appears not, replied an equally as baffled Tea-boy Stackson.

The Captain continued his assault until defeated by his comedown. This would be one voyage the crew would never forget.